The Hummingbird and the Flower
by ValorOrgulloso
Summary: Overhearing an intense conversation between his father and his future mate, Draco knows his life is changed forever. Now if only he could figure out what his mate was. HPDM, creature!stuff, fluff, angst, romance, jealousy
1. Chapter 1

_**The Hummingbird and the Flower**_

**ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter One**

-HBFHBF-

Pansy breathed heavily in my ear as we spied on my father and a man through the bars on the landing. Pansy had come over because her mother and my mother had tea together every Sunday afternoon. It was one of the rare times I socialized with another child my age. Pansy wasn't too loud or dense, so I didn't mind her coming over too much, unlike my father's friends' children, Vincent and Gregory, who I generally ignored or hid from when they made their presence known; although, I could only get away with this when my parents weren't around. They didn't approve of isolation. The family name wouldn't flourish if we didn't make ourselves known, even among the more dull. I started Hogwarts in the fall, so I just figured I could start being a better Malfoy then. 

The only real problem with Pansy was that she was a girl. She always wanted to do girlish things like play dress up or have pretend tea like our mothers. And, for instance, right now how she was breathing on me; my neck began to feel moist, and I couldn't hear anything my father was saying.

My father was usually never home during these luncheons, preferring to distance himself at the Ministry of Magic. The only time he wasn't at the Ministry for hearings and special events where a bunch of Purebloods donated money was during most dinners and to sleep. If he was ever at the Manor during the day, he was in rare form, so my mother says.

Today, though, something private had to be taking place; my father never invited strangers into the home unless the matters were of utmost secrecy. For this reason, I was annoyed with Pansy breathing in my ear. I heard voices, but I couldn't hear anything being said. Finally, I pushed her away, giving my best glare. She shrank away moodily, but I ignored her and turned back to the two men.

I could only see the top of the man's head, though, as he was facing away from me. If I got any closer, I would be seen. From what I could tell, though, he had abominable black hair; it was nothing like my manicured Malfoy tresses. And his robes! They were faded to almost gray and were almost four inches too short.

Rare form, indeed, letting a man like that in the house.

". . . duties over to Severus . . .," the man was saying but faded out once more. They were too far away, and I could only hope they would soon talk louder; I wasn't going to chance my father's wrath for a few words. I strained my ears to hear the man's voice mix with my father's. I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded kind and gentle and submissive and I wondered what a man like that was doing with my father. My father looked worried with what the man was saying.

"Where do you think I'm going to find those potions now? So busy you can't send them to me?" My father's voice rose, and his face began to grow red.

The submissive man shrugged his lanky shoulders, then shook his head. Pansy was too close again, and I pushed her away without a thought.

"I can promise you any sum of money, you know that," my father said. He sounded desperate, an emotion I never had thought to associate with him. He was always in control. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure I wanted Pansy or even myself to hear this conversation.

"I don't need the money, and Draco will have to find out about it sooner or later. It's just going to be sooner now," the man said in his now song-like voice. "Severus could always attempt to find–"

"Find what?" my father snapped. "You're the only one that can quell the inheritance. I call this abandonment."

"He's reaching that age–"

"What's that got to do with it? You could hold off that curse forever."

The man turned to place a hand on my father's shoulder. My father glared at the man, who turned completely to reveal his face to me.

I had to cover my mouth to keep my gasp from carrying across the hall. The man wasn't human. His features, though, were the imitation of one: two dark eyebrows set in the worried crease between his eyes which were as green as grass in the morning sun, and his mouth was a lopsided bow, tense. His face was slim just like the rest of him, but he seemed to emit power. His skin had an ethereal glow to it. How I ever thought him submissive to my father was beyond me. He had much more control and prestige than my father could ever wish to have; than anyone could hope to have. Yet he looked so young; only about seventeen.

I was so caught up in staring, I almost didn't catch the next part.

"I don't want to," the beautiful being said. "I want nature to take its course, and I must be out of the way to do that. You know I wouldn't be able to contain the inheritance for long anyways even if I did keep making the potion. He's getting old enough that I would become too jealous to willingly give him a potion to prevent our–"

"Don't say it," my father ordered. Immediately, the words, the demand, sounded wrong on his lips, and something unpleasant bubbled in my stomach. I must have voiced my discontent because Pansy pinched my arm and looked at me with a question poised on her open mouth. I turned away, though, not wanting to waste a moment not looking at his beauty.

The being broke his calm mask for the first time. The scowl didn't fit his face, nor his cold exterior, although both were rightly deserved to be aimed at my father; he was obviously a creature of light.

"Your disregard and chosen ignorance to the situation will do nothing for you in the long run," the being began. "Draco will abandon _you_ if you keep this from him, and you will have no heir to call your own any longer."

"I'll have no more heirs ever because of you," my father hissed.

The man didn't even pretend to be affected. "No, you won't," he agreed. "Nor do you deserve any. You're a vile creature and the only reason I put up with you for this long was because of my beloved. I wished a normal childhood for him."

Most of the words seemed to fly over my father's head. "Creature. That's rich, coming from a half-breed like yourself."

"And now look at your son. He was never yours."

"I expect you to say he's yours?"

The beauty nodded. "Yes. Draco has always been mine. I just let you take care of him for a while." My heart swooped in unconscious agreement. How could I _not_ belong to him?

"You _let me_," whispered my father. "He's my _son_."

"And I'm his mate. Magic, ancient laws, and love are guiding me. Blood and arrogance, you."

"I think it's time for you to leave, _Harry_," my father hissed, tone livid under badly concealed anger.

"Yes," Harry agreed. His intense eyes, for a moment, glanced up and locked with mine before looking away. I suddenly couldn't breathe and my face felt rather hot. "Yes, I think it _is_ time I'd go. With any luck, I won't see your face for at least another three years. Draco will be ready then."

My father's voice became strangled as he choked, "Go." And then the beauty was gone. I didn't think he Apparated because there was no pop, but the silent evaporation seemed to suit a creature as surreal as Harry.

Pansy and I went back to my room.

"That man, Harry–" I said.

"Wasn't he just _gorgeous?_" gushed Pansy. Then her dreamy expression turned sour as she glared at me. "But I couldn't hear a thing half the time with you bouncing around like you were."

"I did no such thing."

Pansy rolled her eyes, laying down against my pillows. "You looked ready to piss yourself, Draco." She then sent me a sly glance. "Or something a little more sticky."

"Ugh." I walked out of the room.

Why did girls have to be so gushy and gross all the time? Pansy should stay out of other people's business.

What I felt for Harry was private, yet Pansy had to go and ruin it by making it sound tawdry.

At dinner that night, when Pansy had gone home, and the blush had left my cheeks, my father was tense. He kept his head down, something unusual, and ate his rare steak quietly and without conversation. My mother kept sending worried glances towards him before glancing over at me in question. I always looked away.

It served him right, keeping his head down at the dinner table. No one should be able to talk to dear, beautiful Harry that way and be shameless.

I smirked into my glass, knowing my father would not see.

-HBFHBF-

_**Review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Hummingbird and the Flower**_

**ValorOrgulloso**

**Chapter Two**

-HBFHBF-

The welcoming feast that proceeded after my sorting felt like the scenery I passed on my way to Hogwarts: blurred and nondescript. Yes, I talked to a few upper years as well as other newly-sorted Slytherins, yet I couldn't tell you what I said as I forgot. I recalled faces but no names. The food was chewed and swallowed, but I couldn't remember what it tasted like. Yet there was one thing I did remember.

I was almost sorted into Hufflepuff. And I was aghast. Appalled. Angry. Ashamed.

I begged the Sorting Hat to put me in Slytherin–even Ravenclaw or, I must have been crazy, Gryffindor–so long as I wasn't forced to wear yellow and act like someone without a backbone or an independent thought. Or be surrounded by people like that.

Eventually, painstakingly, it put me in Slytherin.

And, even though not a single soul would ever know I was almost put in the lowliest house of Hogwarts, it made me think. _Why_ would I be considered for Hufflepuff? The Hat droned on about loyalty and friendship, but who was I loyal to? Who was I truly a good friend to?

I thought, but there wasn't anyone I could think of that I would put myself out there for. Hufflepuffs prided themselves in acquiring large numbers of supposed friends and protecting each other, much like Gryffindors, and I didn't fit that definition at all.

Pansy was one of my few friends–arguably my only friend–but she certainly wasn't one I would sacrifice my own happiness for.

The only person who I ever felt intensely for was the man from last summer–Harry.

And that was only one. He wasn't my friend, even, just a man I felt for. Harry, though, had power and a beauty like I had never seen. I believed I would do anything for him.

And that was a shallow thought. And I didn't care. Just because someone was attractive didn't mean they deserved loyalty, but, in my mind, that was what mattered to me. I didn't sympathize with people for just existing. I used them as a means to my ends. I certainly used Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. I only paid attention to them when adults were around, and that was barely.

It was all an act.

If anything, my fierce ties to Harry should have made the Hat immediately put me in Slytherin.

Maybe, though, it wanted to put me in Hufflepuff for that very reason. Because it made me weak; a coward. Wanting Harry, even though he wasn't human, made me weak.

But weren't all eleven year old children dependent on someone? Weren't they all submissive to a parent or authority head?

I knew Harry was bigger in greatness than I could ever hope for, with his glowing skin, bright eyes, breezy hair. . .

And I would stay that way, I knew. Harry was a magical creature and he knew about me. I would see him in a few years, like he promised. At least, it felt like a promise. He had looked at me a moment before he mentioned his plan to return.

The area right beneath my sternum always felt strained when I thought about him, and I had the crazy urge to laugh for no apparent reason.

I wished to talk to him, but I knew I would have to wait. Unless. . .

After I heard my new dorm mates, whose names I had already forgotten, fall asleep, I got up and sat down at my desk, a quill and parchment in hand.

It took me a while to just get words down on the paper. I wasn't quite sure what to write. Instead, much of my parchment was adorned with semi-accurate drawings of Harry. I stashed those away in my trunk to ponder later and continued on.

After rereading the letter I had written, I decided that perhaps I really was a petty rodent hiding in a serpent's lair.

It was a bit desperate, but I didn't toss it. Instead, by the end of the week, I found out where the Owlery was located from an older Slytherin called Montague, and sent my letter out by tying it to my brawny eagle owl, Ornith.

I whispered to Ornith who to take it to before I lost my nerve and snatched back the letter.

But that would just prove how Hufflepuff I could be, and I wouldn't take back the letter I intended to send to Harry.

On the other hand, putting myself out there could be the biggest mistake of my life and rather foolish and Gryffindor.

In the end, though, I ultimately didn't get the chance to decide whether I'd rather be an idiot or a weak but smarter idiot, as Ornith had flown off and was a speck in the sky.

And life at school went on as I tried to forget about my identity crisis.

-HBFHBF-

I picked up the wrapped gift. It was a box that had some weight to it, and it was about the size of my Transfiguration textbook, which was a few thousand pages thick.

I glanced up at my parents, who sat, dressed and groomed, on two of the stiff chairs by the enormous fireplace that was adorned with green flames. The flickering fire was the only light source in the room, as there were no windows or candles lit. They each had a glass of champagne in their hands, despite the early hour, and they didn't notice me.

It was Christmas morning. My parents thought I was still asleep. There was no need to alert them of my presence, for it would warrant unwanted queries as to the gift in my arms. I didn't breathe as I left the room, my pale hands clenching the present safely to my breast. When I was sure they wouldn't hear my footsteps, I sprinted the rest of the way to my room, light on my feet just in case.

I pressed on my bedroom door until I heard it click, then locked it. There was no way I was risking a rogue House Elf to witness this gift.

Because it was from Harry.

I wasn't sure exactly how I knew, but I knew. It was wrapped in plain, brown cardboard-like paper, and there was no bow. No card. No name.

But, although an onlooker could call it plain, it breathed with power. Not power in the sense that what was wrapped inside was powerful, but power in who touched it–who _created_ it. For surely Harry created this gift. A delicious glow seemed to pour out of it in big gulps, and it was all I could to stop myself from burying my face in the brown wrappings and holding on forever–or at least until my parents found and stopped me.

Harry was my mate, whatever that meant exactly; he declared it to my father and to Pansy and to me. I had no idea what creature he was, but it didn't matter because I accepted him for whatever he was. Just knowing he was mine was enough for now. And this was the first contact he made with me since I sent my letter back in September.

I was ecstatic. I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. I sat on the edge of my silk sheets laying the present in my lap.

I carefully peeled the wrapping paper back at the seams, careful not to rip any of it. After I finished with the paper, I carefully folded it and lay it aside. Within the paper was a box that I was just as careful opening.

I glanced inside to find a piece of parchment covering a strange device. It was small and had a bell of some sort sticking out from it while a circular disc lay beneath it. I picked up the parchment to read Harry's messy scrawl. I smiled even wider when I realized I now knew what his handwriting looked like. The note read:

_Tap phonograph with wand._

_Concerto in G. Vivaldi._

_A piece of me for you._

I glanced back at the device, realizing this must be the _phonograph_. Glancing around me, I finally located my wand on my bedside table. I replaced my wand with the _phonograph._ I tapped the _phonograph_, still in the box.

I jumped as it grew bigger, my wand pointed out. The box disappeared as unassumingly as Harry had last summer. A needle dropped to scrape against the black disc. I jumped again as it started playing music.

I leaned forward leaning my ear towards the device. I realized the music was coming out of the bell. I set my wand down, feeling foolish and a bit ashamed. My mate would never send me a dangerous gift.

I glanced down at the paper. _Concerto in G _must be the song that played. It was fast and joyful and made me feel content.

_A piece of me for you_. I grinned and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes. I was sure he also meant: _Here's a clue as to who I am_.

My mate was sly and liked music. Fast music. With lots of dancing. What creatures were sly and liked to dance?

A vampire, for sure, was sly. They needed to be to lure humans in to feed. But a dancer? That was laughable. Vampires were dark creatures, and generally creatures of light liked music.

So what creatures liked music?

Veela did. Veela loved music and parties. But Veela also wore their hearts on their sleeves. They would declare themselves Veela before thinking to hide it as a game. My mate liked to play. He was mischievous.

What was my mate?

I sighed, deciding to think on it later; perhaps when Harry sent me one more clue, perhaps as a birthday present.

I groaned a little when I realized my birthday was a whole six months away, before letting the music blanket over me, blocking out my thoughts like water in my ears.

Completely ineffective.

-HBFHBF-

_**You can YouTube "Concerto in G Marie" and the first few results should provide you with the song in case you're curious. It's from **_**Marie Antoinette****_._**

_**As always, I'd love some feedback!**_


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